


A Cottage in November

by Freshnonsense42



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Familiars, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale, Roscoe is a fox, Witch Stiles Stilinski, all the aus aparently, because why not, not between Stiles and Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27561724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freshnonsense42/pseuds/Freshnonsense42
Summary: Derek doesn't know why he woke up in Stiles Stilinski's front yard, but he knows he trusts him.He just can't figure outwhyhe would trust a witch again.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 16
Kudos: 508
Collections: Sterek Goodness





	A Cottage in November

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not super active in the fandom anymore, but I wrote this out and wanted to post it. I do want to thank anyone who left kudos or comments on my other fics. I appreciate every single one and definitely wouldn't have posted this without them!
> 
> The full moon in November of 2020 is actually on the thirtieth, but I didn't want to wait until then to post. So this is either set in another year, or it is the future and a timeline where COVID19 doesn't exist. Either way. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

Derek was dying. That was the only explanation for why his entire body _ached_. One of the benefits of being a werewolf was not having to worry about injuries or prolonged pain. Unless there had been wolfsbane interference. He didn’t think there had been, though, because… everything went a little fuzzy in his memory, but he still felt pretty certain it wasn’t wolfsbane.

The amount of effort it took to crack one eye open was disheartening. He would appreciate his healing kicking in at literally any moment. Above him was nothing but trees and late afternoon sunlight. It was too much for his sensitive head, though, so he squeezed his eyes shut.

What was he doing in the woods? Was he even still in Beacon Hills? He had no reason to have left his pack so close to a full moon. The pack usually stuck together in the days leading up to a full moon. It was comforting. Maybe some of the pack was around and he had not seen them. Maybe their healing had been hindered too.

“Yo.” Derek startled away from the voice and swallowed thickly around his nausea. A pale man with a smattering of moles stood a few feet to Derek’s left. He wore a navy sweater and a rainbow scarf and frowned at Derek. “Dude,” he said, “you passed out on my front yard. I live in the middle of the woods.” He gestured around himself emphatically. “What the heck?”

Derek considered standing up, but that seemed like a lot of effort. It was much easier to lounge on a stranger’s front yard. The stranger wasn’t very threatening anyway. Derek mustered all his strength and said, “I don’t know where I am.” The man glared at him. Which was actually a good point, so Derek pointed it out. “I don’t know who you are.”

The man glanced around again, a little furrow forming between his eyebrows. “Uh, well, do you know who you are?”

Derek scowled. He wasn’t an _idiot._ “Of course I know who I am.”

The man threw his arms up and said, “Well! You’re talking about how you don’t know where you are and you don’t know who I am! I wasn’t sure if you were stating the obvious or if you had amnesia!” Derek closed his eyes again and held back a groan. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

“So you _do_ have amnesia.”

“Shut-up.” He could not listen to the guy talk when he needed to focus on standing. He took a deep breath. Then another. And one more. When it seemed like the man was on the verge of speaking again, Derek stood up. What was _wrong_ with him? Werewolves didn’t experience things like this normally. _Was_ he dying? He did a brief check of his body, but there were no wounds or signs of wolfsbane.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you doing that? Oh my god, are you a murder victim?”

Derek gritted his teeth. “Shut-up. My head…” He trailed off because it was too much effort. He needed to focus on keeping his brain inside his skull. Was this how humans always felt? It was hell.

After a moment of silence the man sighed. “Ok. Come on.” He tugged uselessly on Derek’s arm, which Derek allowed mostly because it would take more effort to argue. “I’ll make you something to help with the pain.”

That, mixed with the fact that the man lived in the woods and smelled faintly of magic, had a few things clicking into place in Derek’s brain. Things he normally would have noticed right away. But he was in so much fucking pain he’d glossed over it. He allowed the man to jerk Derek forward one or two steps.

“You’re a witch?” Ok, so Derek wasn’t at his most scintillating. 

“Jesus! How much do you weigh?” The man demanded as he held Derek upright. Because Derek had one arm thrown over the man’s shoulders and most of his weight was held up by him. “What are you, 16 tons of bricks in human skin?”

“Shut-up.”

“What are you, the personification of a black hole?” He practically dragged Derek across the yard to a cottage. Derek hadn’t noticed it while he had been lying on the ground. It was a simple wooden building with a new metal roof.

It was also the least of Derek’s problems.

“What kind of witch are you?” He could be a little nicer. So far the witch hadn’t been outwardly threatening. No point in antagonizing him unnecessarily. He could practically _hear_ Laura explaining how to be polite. _It’s really not the difficult Der-bear_.

“What are you, the crushing weight of having to cope with the constant passing of time?”

“What?” One of them definitely had a concussion and Derek’s money was on the other guy.

The man struggled to keep Derek upright while trying to grab hold of the doorknob. Derek watched. “What are you,” he panted, “every expectation I failed to live up to?” As interesting as it was to watch him struggle, Derek opened the door for him. It was weird to pay that much attention to a stranger’s hands anyway. “Thanks.”

The cottage was small and cluttered. A couch and a coffee table were huddled in front of a small wood burning stove, which had its door open and a grate over it, revealing a low burning fire. A tiny kitchen with white cabinets and a table with four chairs around it was behind the couch. Innumerable bookcases and hutches lined all the walls of the tiny cottage.

The man dumped Derek into one of the kitchen table chairs and puttered around. Derek thought he might be making tea. Dried plants hung from the ceiling and flowers in pots and animal bones lined along the top of the kitchen cabinets. A fox peeked into the kitchen window from the outside and looked around. When it caught sight of Derek it yipped and ducked down.

Before he could process that properly, a mug of sweet smelling tea was set in front of him. “Drink that,” said the guy. He frowned and put his hands on his hips. “Are you hungry? I don’t have much. Tomorrow’s my shopping day, but I’ve got some cheese and nuts and berries.”

Derek clasped the mug and let its warmth seep into his skin. He should not drink the tea. He had no idea where he was and he couldn’t remember what he had been doing before he woke up in a stranger’s yard. It was a bad idea to trust a witch and drink his tea.

The tea tasted of cinnamon and was almost cider-like. His head and back instantly felt better, but that might have been placebo versus magic.

The man sat across from Derek and pushed a plate of food over to him. “Eat that. You’re kind of pale, dude.”

It was the cheese, nuts, and berries as well as four dark cookies lining the edge of the plate. If he had already drank the tea then there was no use in refusing food. Derek took one of the cookies- it was a little like gingerbread, but obviously not that. “What is this?” He asked around a mouthful. It was good.

The guy eyed him sardonically. “Molasses cookie. I’m Stiles, by the way.” Derek nodded and sipped more of his tea.After a moment Stiles gestured to him and said, “And you are…?”

“Derek.” He ate some of the cheese and nuts because he thought it would be polite after two cookies. “Where am I?”

“Beacon Hills Preserve.”

He froze with his mug halfway to his mouth. “I’m still in Beacon Hills?” Then he glanced around the cottage and frowned. “I didn’t know a witch lived in the preserve.”

Stiles tilted his head as he watched Derek closely. “I was hired by the local alpha. Do you know her?”

It was such an absurd question that Derek stared blankly at Stiles. No one had ever not known who Derek was- who his family were. There were only fifty alphas in the US, so people tended to at least know them through name, if not any other details. Even if he hadn’t said the name ‘Hale’, it should have been enough that he was a werewolf from Beacon Hills and his name was Derek.

Slowly he nodded, wondering if this was some kind of test. “Yes, I know her.”

“You sure, man?” Derek glowered at the amusement on Stiles’ face, but he just laughed. “Listen, I dunno what kind of werewolf politics are going on, but Alpha Hale hired me to care for the Nemeton.” Derek tensed and took a deep breath to steady himself and his anchor. “Whoa. Ok. So, you don’t love that, huh?”

Derek bared his human teeth but flashed his beta eyes at him. It was not a slip in control. He was just annoyed with Stiles, who was completely unafraid of the werewolf struggling for control in is house. That was almost more disconcerting than if Stiles had been preparing to fight him.

After a moment of intense staring, Stiles said, “Blue’s a nice color.”

It was such a non-sequitur that Derek almost ignored it. But… what the fuck? “What?”

Stiles gestured to his own eyes and said, “Blue. Your eyes.”

“My eyes are hazel.”

“Ha. Ha. I meant your beta eyes.”

“My beta eyes”-

Derek cut himself off. Gold was the standard color for beta eyes. They only changed to blue when a wolf met their soulmate, and Derek had not done that. It made no sense that Stiles thought they were blue. None. Absolutely crazy.

So Derek ignored it. “Why did Mom hire someone for that?”

“Mom? Cool.” Stiles seemed ok with Derek changing the subject, which was a relief. He picked up the empty plate and asked, “Do you want more tea?” Derek shouldn’t, because Stiles was an unknown witch, but he’d already eaten and drank things from him. He nodded. It was good tea.

While Stiles moved around the kitchen he said, “Alpha Hale said you had a darach poison the Nemeton. Apparently, the local druid has been working on healing it, but it needs someone to care for it full time.” Stiles handed him another mug of tea. “I was moving to town and looking for work, so Alpha Hale hired me.” He sat across from him and shrugged. “The cottage was an unexpected bonus of the gig.”

“You’re a medicinal witch?”

“I’m a forest witch with some medicinal qualities, but even those are mostly focused on plants and animals. The local druid- Deaton, do you know him? He’s very mysterious but seems all right. His assistant is not magical, I guess. Scott McCall? He’s hilarious.”

“He’s married to a hunter.”

Stiles froze at the accusation in Derek’s tone. Most werewolves didn’t like hunters, but they also tried to keep the hostility to a minimum. Derek usually tried, too, but the Argent family tended to straddle the line between official hunter and rogue extremist. It left a bad taste in Dereks mouth.

“Uh… Allison? I’ve met her, like, once, but she seemed ok.”

Derek grunted, because he didn’t actually know Allison. He didn’t like her family, particularly her aunt, but that didn’t mean she was a bad person. The more pressing concern was the fact that he was in the home of a witch caring for the Nemeton, and had no memory of how he’d gotten there. Stiles was slouched in his chair and watching Derek with sharp eyes, his long fingers tapping against his mouth thoughtfully.

Fucking great.

Derek looked into his empty mug and asked, “What does the tea do?”

Stiles raised his eyebrows, but didn’t remark on the oddity of Derek’s non-sequitur. “It helps with pain. You were talking about your head hurting. It’s no different than taking Tylenol, but it tastes better.” Derek frowned at the mug and nodded. His head did feel better and it was much easier to think, which didn’t seem like something Stiles would do if he were scheming. “So Derek,” said Stiles, “what were you doing napping in my front yard?”

He didn’t feel _compelled_ to tell Stiles the truth, but that might have been because he didn’t know the truth. After a few moments of not answering, Stiles rolled his eyes and grumbled something about ‘stubborn assholes’.

Derek sighed and decided on the truth. “I don’t remember.”

“You do have amnesia,” said Stiles flatly.

“I know who I am, I just don’t remember how I got here.”

“Selective amnesia.” Derek glared at him, but Stiles glared right back. It was such a stupid thing to do with a werewolf, even as a witch. But it was… intriguing. Derek pressed his lips firmly together to stop himself from saying anything stupid. Stiles rolled his entire head instead of just his eyes. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

A small piece of Derek wanted to say _nothing_ just to irritate Stiles. He thought it would lead to an interesting conversation. He liked sitting in Stiles’ kitchen, which smelled like citrus and spice.

Derek looked away from Stiles and focused on dredging up his memories.

He’d had breakfast at the diner with his sisters. Laura had complained about her job. She hated her job, but couldn’t be convinced to find a new one. Cora had thrown a napkin at her and yelled at her be an alpha, because Laura had spent her teenage years bragging about how she had alpha potential, annoying the shit out of Derek and Cora about it. Now she was confirmed as the alpha heir and stifled by the pressure she put on herself, even though she would lose her mind if she stayed a beta her whole life.

After breakfast he and Cora had gone to the bookstore to browse for a few hours. He’d boughten two books and Cora had flirted with the cashier. He’d met Boyd for lunch at their usual salad place and Erica had texted them fifteen separate pictures of rabbits. They’d gone to the gym together afterwards. Then he’d gone home and… and…

He focused on Stiles, who was watching him with his mouth parted. “I was at home.”

“Alone?”

“I live at the pack house. No one is ever alone there.”

“Ominous, but cool. Ok, I’m calling Alpha Hale.” Stiles clapped his hands together once then started searching around the cottage for something.

“Why are you calling her?”

“So she can come pick you up.”

“I remember where the pack house is.”

Stiles paused with his hand shoved between the couch cushions to focus the full force of his glare on Derek. “Dude. You were unconscious in my front yard for _awhile_. If you were human then I’d have taken you to the hospital for potential brain damage. I’m only like 70% sure we’re in the clear since you’re a werewolf. And you don’t remember what happened that led to you being here. Plus, I had to give you pain medicine to help with your _pain_. What the fuck was your healing doing? I’m calling your alpha.”

Derek silently conceded that those were good reasons to call his mom. He hated that, but didn’t argue. Stiles abandoned his search of the couch to riffle through the blue hutch next to the door. He’d taken off his scarf at some point and hung it on a hook nailed into the door. There were a series of knitted scarves there. Every single one of them was done in garish colors. What would Isaac think of Stiles’ collection?

Stiles bent over and shuffled in the bottom cabinet. After a moment, Derek blushed and looked away.The fox was peeking in the window again, but it ducked down when their eyes met. The crow on the window’s ledge didn’t leave though. It spread out its wings briefly and squawked. Derek looked away.

“What are you doing here,” he asked eventually.

Stiles glanced over his shoulder, alarmed. “This is my house. You remember _that_ , don’t you, man?”

Derek rolled his eyes and the crow squawked again. “You said you moved to town. Why did you move here?”

“Oh.” He returned his attention to the cabinet, but it apparently didn’t have what he was looking for either. Instead he flopped onto his stomach and searched under the furniture. “Uh, my dad was moving to town so I followed him.”

“Why did your dad move to town?” The crow squawked a third time, so Derek glanced at it and saw the fox’s ears sticking up but nothing else. The crow fluttered its wings again. On top of the bookcase beneath the window was a cellphone. Derek rolled his eyes.

“He was elected sheriff.” Stiles’ voice was muffled, because he had his entire head under the coffee table. Like he could somehow miss what he was looking for if he didn’t practically crawl onto the bottom shelf.

Derek picked up the cellphone and paused. “Your dad is Sheriff Stilinski?” Derek’s mother had personally gone to see Stilinski to encourage him to run for sheriff of Beacon Hills County. He’d apparently been on track to becoming sheriff years ago, then his wife became ill. After a few years devoted to caring for her, she’d died and Stilinski’s career had taken a hit. Peter had mouthed the word ‘alcohol’ at Derek when Talia had explained things to the pack.

“Yeah. And the sheriff’s department is in Beacon Hills and I was doing gardening tutorials for kindergartners at the community center. It was volunteer work.” Stiles withdrew from the coffee table and sat on his knees to glance around his cottage. “Basically, I wasn’t doing anything. So when Dad moved I followed him like a lost puppy and got handed a job from your mom.”

Derek held out the cell for Stiles and he beamed. “There it is!” Derek went back to the kitchen table so he could ignore the things that smile did to him.

This didn’t normally happen to Derek. When he was interested in someone it was never this intense. It was never over something as small as the placement of a mole or the laughter in their eyes. Particularly when that someone was a witch. Derek eyed his mug warily, but love potions took powerful magic and were dangerous for both the receiver of the potion and the giver.

How connected was Stiles to the Nemeton? Did Deaton keep an eye on him to ensure he wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t be doing? How much did his mom look into Stiles before she offered him a job? Just because Sheriff Stilinski was a good man didn’t guarantee his son was one.

Derek cut his eyes over to the window where the crow watched him. The fox yipped and scooted behind the crow, but it did a terrible job of hiding. Derek stared at them and realized that his wolf was completely at ease. He had accepted the tea and food from a strange witch because his wolf was relaxed.

Even his posturing earlier hadn’t been a slip of control. It had been a combination of mentioning the Nemeton and Stiles not knowing when to back down. Stiles had claimed Derek’s eyes were blue after he flashed them. It was possible that Stiles knew a werewolf’s eyes changed color when they met their soulmate. It wasn’t something that was kept a secret, but most humans didn’t know about it. There weren’t that many werewolves around. 

The only proof that beings besides werewolves had soulmates was that newly changed people had them. Even that was hotly contested as evidence in the werewolf community. Some people thought that those beings were given a soulmate by magic after getting the Bite. Derek wasn't so sure about that, but he knew it was risky to have a human as a soulmate. Humans often didn't care about the connection, platonic or romantic. Most of the werewolves Derek knew considered a non-werewolf soulmate a curse. 

His wolf and human were out of balance over Stiles. His soulmate. It explained why Derek had woken up in pain.

“Alpha Hale will be here soon,” announced Stiles. Derek cringed. Was he so out of sync that he hadn’t heard his alpha and mother over the phone? “You ok, man? You look a little green around the gills. Is that normal for a werewolf?”

Derek sat at the kitchen table again. “Why did you think your cell would be in the hutch?”

“What? Oh. I never know where that thing is. The reception out here is spotty so it’s useless. I can’t even stream out here. I have a blu-ray player in my bedroom because my laptop is useless for the internet.” Stiles paused by the chair across from Derek and noticed the crow and fox. He sighed. “Guys, don’t be weird.” The crow hopped on the fox’s head and the pair of them disappeared. “Sorry about them,” said Stiles ruefully, “they’re busybodies.”

Derek stared at the spot they had been. Everything about Stiles and his cottage felt right to his wolf. He didn’t even know Stiles, but his wolf had decided on him. What was he supposed to do? Being at odds with himself would only make his control slip.

“Do you, uh, not like animals?”

Stiles’ brow was furrowed as he watched Derek warily. The worst part about it was that Derek didn’t want to lie. For every reason his brain supplied for why he should run away from _that_ , his wolf had a reason to revel in the comfort.

“My wolf likes you.” Stiles raised his eyebrows and they stared at one another in silence. Derek had no idea if Stiles knew the significance. If he would connect the fact that Derek’s eyes were blue with the fact that his wolf liked Stiles. It might be a little too loose even for someone in the know. He added, “That’s probably why I was in your front yard.”

“Because your wolf likes me?” The heaviness in Stiles’ voice made it clear that he had caught on to what was happening. Maybe he didn’t know that a change of eye color meant mates, but he knew what it meant when a werewolf told you their wolf liked you.

“I must have caught scent of you and followed it here.”

“And you passed out?” Derek shrugged, because that didn’t make sense. He didn’t know why he passed out or why he couldn’t remember coming to Stiles’ cottage. That had nothing to do with his wolf and human not being in sync. “Ok.” Stiles sat down and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. He cleared his throat and asked, “So… are you pissed because your wolf likes someone or because your wolf likes me?”

Stiles' voice had a vulnerability to it that had Derek's wolf whining to comfort him. To reassure him that Stiles was everything Derek could have hoped for in a soulmate and more. If this had happened before then Derek would have been in perfect agreement with his wolf. Even if Stiles were a human, he was so clearly worth the risk.

Derek sighed. “The darach, her name was Jennifer- well, no it wasn’t. That’s just what she told me her name was. She- she used a spell on me,” he shouldn’t keep it vague, but it seemed like a lot for a first meeting, “and we dated. She was using me to try to keep suspicion off her while she was poisoning the Nemeton. Also, she had some grand plan to use the alpha in her schemes.” He shrugged. “I dunno.”

Stiles’s brow furrowed as Derek explained things to him. He didn’t seem angry - Derek hoped he wasn’t angry - it was more like he was concentrating with all of his being. “You don’t like magic users.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s- I have trouble trusting them.”

He nodded, slowly. “What happens when a human can’t agree with their wolf?”

Before Derek could respond he caught the sound of his mother’s heartbeat and whined in the back of his throat. He didn’t bother explaining what was happening to Stiles. By the time Derek had exited the cottage his mother and father were at the edge of the property. He rushed to them so they could scent one another.

“Are you ok, baby?” Talia asked while she rubbed Derek’s back.

“You hired a witch?” It wasn’t a great start to the conversation- it hadn’t even been what he intended to say. But it was odd that Talia hadn’t warned him about the new witch so close to home.

She glanced towards the cottage and her brow furrowed. “Yes. We discussed it at the pack meeting.”

“He wasn’t at that meeting,” murmured Aaron. “He and Isaac were out of town. Your mother said she’d talk to him about.”

“Then she couldn’t. Her friend broke her hip and Mom went to stay with her, remember? Peter was supposed to talk to him.”

Aaron sighed. “That explains the deal Peter and Cora made. I swore they said Derek’s name, but Peter distracted me from looking into it.”

“Cora told me Mom had taken care of the Nemeton,” added Derek. “I asked what she meant and she raised her eyebrows at me and said ‘you know’. It was during the pack cook-out a few weeks ago and she was half drunk, so I didn’t think much about it.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” She shot a wary glance behind Derek. “Did something happen?” The careful way she asked made it clear she was expecting to do damage control.

He lowered his voice, even though Stiles was human and couldn’t hear them anyway, and said, “He’s my soulmate.” Talia flinched, which summed up Derek’s life well enough. “I don’t know how I got here, though.”

“Hey guys!” Stiles was standing by a shed about ten feet from his cottage. He didn’t even bother turning around to check if they were watching him. “I think I figured out why Derek was unconscious.” They crossed the yard to where Stiles was investigating the wall of the shed with a huge indent. “I’m pretty sure he ran into this,” said Stiles absently, “and he must have stumbled over there and passed out. This thing was stronger than I thought.” He patted it, like he was proud of a random shed.

Aaron clapped Derek on the back and said, “Well, it’s not the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done.”

Stiles’ head whipped and his gaze zeroed in on Aaron. “What is the most embarrassing thing?” The three of them stared at him. “Oh, come on! I do embarrassing stuff all the time. I punched myself in the face when I met Alpha Hale.”

“How?” Derek asked it with horror. Was Stiles that much of a danger to himself? How was Derek meant to protect him from himself?

“Uh, a story for a story, my guy.”

“Boys,” said Talia with some amusement and a lot of wariness. “I think we have bigger things to talk about.”

The amusement vanished from Stiles’ face and he turned towards the shed. With his hands on his hips and his head head tilted to one side, he considered the dent. Derek wondered if the shed had been built specifically to withstand werewolf strength. He had no idea where it or the cottage had come from. It was too old for Stiles to have built when he moved to town, but Derek didn’t remember it.

Stiles nodded to himself and said, “You should see Deaton.”

That made no sense. The shed was made of concrete and steel or something, not nature. How would Deaton help fix the dent? Derek frowned at Stiles’ profile and willed him to look at Derek again. “What?”

“He can make sure you aren’t under a spell.”

Derek’s stomach swooped. Aaron squeezed his shoulder and Talia gripped his arm in an iron vise. “Excuse me?” The full force of Talia’s alphahood backed the words. A lesser person would cower under her power, but Stiles just huffed a laugh.

He glanced at her, then his gaze turned to Derek, like he couldn’t help but look at him. Derek hoped that was the reason. This wasn’t what he had expected for himself, after Jennifer he had sworn off magic users. It had taken him a lot of work to get to a point where he could be friendly with them again. The fact that his soulmate was a magic user made him nervous, but the thought of not being in Stiles’ life made sweat break out on his brow.

Stiles looked away. “I thought he’d like the reassurance. The forest is big, anyway, I have no idea who he ran into before he showed up at my doorstep. If Deaton clears him then we can talk about,” he gestured in the air vaguely, “this.”

Derek wanted to refuse to leave. It was enough that Stiles was suggesting Deaton look him over, he didn’t need anything more. He could stay with Stiles and help him while he worked. At the very least he could figure out a way to get rid of the dent. He wanted Stiles’ attention on him. His amber eyes on Derek and his razor sharp, almost uncomfortable focus, and his laughter and his stories, and his vague half focus while he did other things and his busybody animals. Derek wanted it _all_ and he hated that just as much as he loved it.

Talia tugged on his arm and said, “Come on, sweetie. We’ll talk to Deaton and come back tomorrow.” The sun had almost set completely. Her plan made sense. It would take a few hours for Deaton to run his tests or whatever anyway. Tomorrow was not that long away- but it felt like good-bye and his wolf was freaking out.

Stiles faced him again and said, “See you tomorrow, big guy,” and winked at him. Derek let his parents lead him away because Stiles wasn’t going anywhere. He would wait for Derek. He would wait.

* * *

It was normal for buildings in werewolf dense areas to soundproof, either through wards or building materials, as the default. Which meant that Derek couldn’t listen to Stiles putter around inside, or sleep, or his heartbeat- although he had tried. Just to get a read on how he was doing and what was going on.

It wasn’t weird.

Stiles must have done some kind of ward to his cottage. Because Derek had been able to hear the outside world while he was in it, but he couldn’t hear in it now that he was outside. That’s all Derek wanted. To just… know Stiles was there.

Ok, it was weird. Laura would kill him when she found out and Cora would play _Every Breath You Take_ any time he entered a room. And Derek wouldn’t even be able to argue with them. It would be the worst.

After they had finished with Deaton it had been ten o’clock at night and Talia had refused to let Derek go to Stiles. It was too late, he was probably in bed, it could wait until morning. That was easy for her to say when her soulmate lived in the same house. Stiles probably hated Derek for the way he’d reacted to learning Stiles was his soulmate.

Part of Derek was still uneasy about Stiles being a magic user. Maybe that piece of him would always shy away from magic users, he didn’t know. But he felt comforted around Stiles. He felt safe, which was absurd because he was a werewolf and his mother was alpha. Derek had always been safe.

Except for the one moment he hadn’t been.

Derek had laid in bed and stared at his ceiling and willed the sun to come up, but it hadn’t. Around midnight he’d given into his restlessness and snuck out of the house to go for a run. He hadn’t intended to show up at Stiles’ cottage, but he had done that. Then he’d squatted in the brush with the intent to just… hang out until an appropriate hour. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was the best he’d come up with.

A light turned on in the cottage and Derek hunkered lower to the ground. His breath caught when the outline of Stiles appeared against the curtains. It was ridiculous. That small scrap of Stiles shouldn’t make his heart race, but most werewolves didn’t leave their soulmate so soon after meeting them.

The front door opened to reveal Stiles, wearing plaid pajama pants and a red hoodie. He said, to the forest at large, “Hey man, do you want hot chocolate?”

Derek stayed where he was for a few moments, because Stiles had no way of knowing he was loitering at the cottage. But no one else stepped out from the forest and Derek couldn’t hear or smell anyone else. He crept out of his hiding spot, careful to keep features completely human. The last thing he needed was to remind Stiles that he was a supernaturally powerful creature.

Stiles smiled at him.

The door to the wood burning stove was shut and the grate was leaning against the wall. A lamp was on by an open door which revealed a rumpled bed. Stiles turned on the overhead light for the kitchen and gathered materials for his hot chocolate. Derek clenched his hands on the impulse to provide for Stiles in some way. He knew how to cook. He could make Stiles an omelette or chicken marsala or stuffed peppers.

The crow flapped its wings in his peripheral vision. It was on the fox’s paw, doing a poor job of hiding the fox who was facing determinedly away from Derek. Both of them were lying on a green plaid pillow by the kitchen hutch, which Derek assumed was their bed. Derek stared at the pair of them for a minute.

“So,” said Stiles with his back to Derek, “how did it go with Deaton?”

“No spells.”

A moment of silence passed. One that Derek worried he was supposed to be filling with something, but he didn’t know what, before Stiles nodded. “Good. And you’re ok? Your memory’s ok?”

“Yeah. I remember more details about being at home and deciding to go for a run with my cousins. It’s normal for memory to get fuzzy when a werewolf meets their soulmate and normal for some memory issues after a head injury.” Derek knew he was talking too much. It was something that never happened to him and he had no idea how to stop himself. “All natural reactions, I guess.”

“Awesome,” Stiles said and seemed to genuinely mean it. “So, um…”

“How did you know I was out there?”

He glanced at Derek with amusement, but kept his focus mainly on the hot chocolate. “Dude, I’m caring for a powerful magical tree that’s already been attacked once before. Anyone who tries to get within 100 feet of me or the Nemeton sets off an alarm.”

That was probably a good idea. Derek wondered if Stiles had set up more wards or if he’d used an actual alarm company. If he were any other magic user it wouldn’t even be a question. But he’d said alarm, not ward. Maybe that was just the influence of his father?

“I was out there for a little bit.”

Stiles smirked at him over his shoulder. “An hour and a half is a little bit?” Derek flushed and turned back to the crow and fox. “Someone without ill intentions was hanging out in the trees around my place, so I made an educated guess.”

“Sorry.”

“You hit the jackpot.” Stiles chuckled, which drew Derek’s gaze back to him. He didn’t want to miss the way Stiles’ eyes lit up or the way he wrinkled his nose. “If there’s anyone on earth who’s not gonna make it weird that you were just hanging out around their house, it’s me.”

Derek grimaced. “Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s not that strong, but it’s there.” Derek sighed. “I’ll make life interesting!”

“Great,” he grumbled. “How many animals do you have?”

“What? Oh. Just those two.” Stiles handed over a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon dusted on it. He walked over to the couch and curled up in one corner so Derek took the other. “That’s Clawdia and Roscoe.” Derek raised his brows at the pun. “She’s named after my mom.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Mom had a great sense of humor. She was always leaving Dad little doodles that said things like ‘I like you a latte’ or ‘you’re the loaf of my life’. When I got a crow as my familiar it was too good to pass up.”

Stiles’ eyes flitted around the room while his hands wrapped around his mug. There were dark circles underneath his eyes. Derek wanted to reach out a run a hand through Stiles’ hair, but it was way too soon for that. Instead he took a sip of his hot chocolate then asked, “And the fox?”

“Roscoe. He was my mom’s familiar. She died when I was nine, so I used him as a temporary familiar until I was eighteen.”

Derek had never heard of that before. In his limited experience, familiars were personal and typically imprinted on the witch they assisted. He had no idea how Roscoe had survived until Stiles was eighteen without his witch, let alone another decade or so. He knew familiars typically lived longer than their non-familiar counterparts lived, but most died with their witch.

“I dunno why he’s alive either.” Derek cringed, wondering if his thoughts had been that obvious. “It might be the power of love, but Mom might have cast a spell before she died too.” Stiles twisted his mug in his hands and shrugged one shoulder. “Probably not. She was… who knows why things happen, y’know.”

Derek didn’t know why his soulmate was a witch after a magic user had shattered his trust. He didn’t know why his mother had been so intent on Stilinski becoming sheriff of Beacon Hills County, but Stiles and Derek had never met. He didn’t know why he couldn’t have been there while Claudia was ill or when she died. He didn’t know why they hadn’t run into each other at the grocery store, or the gas station, or even at a pack night.

All he really knew was that Stiles felt like home. They were soulmates and Derek wanted to see if they could actually be home for each other. He wanted to _try_.

Derek held out his hand and said, “Stiles,” softly.

The corner of Stiles’ mouth ticked up and, after a moment, he slipped his hand into Derek’s. He talked about his mom, and his dad, and growing up in Happy Pine. Derek sipped his hot chocolate and listened, soaking in every detail and admiring each shift in Stiles’ expression.

As far as beginnings went, it was a good one.


End file.
